


One in a Million

by mouseratstan



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Marriage, Multiple Relationships, POV Multiple, Pregnancy, episode filler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseratstan/pseuds/mouseratstan
Summary: Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt are faced with a brand new challenge: they're expecting triplets. How can they navigate the difficulties of pregnancy while both are working very important jobs, their political careers are picking up, and some of their friends seem to be slipping farther and farther away from them?This story acts as a filler between seasons 6 and 7, during the 3 year time skip period we missed during the show, so everything will add up to canon as much as I possibly can. POVs/Storylines will include more characters than just Ben and Leslie.
Relationships: Andy Dwyer/April Ludgate, Ann Perkins/Chris Traeger, Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 63
Kudos: 89





	1. Still Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! This is the first chapter of my brand new, ongoing long fic. I have no clue so far how long this is going to be or even what all I'm going to include, but I can promise that while this story is largely Ben/Leslie, there will be more than just them!  
> I want to give the other main character's storylines their fair shot, because they deserve it.  
> Enjoy chapter one!

Ben Wyatt knows something is wrong as soon as he reaches his arm across the bed and can still feel her there.

Ben Wyatt had already suspected something was wrong the night before when his wife had fallen asleep before him, which only happened a handful of times throughout the course of their entire relationship. But even then, every morning Ben was used to waking up to an empty bed. Leslie Knope was never one to sleep in. Not even once, not when there was work to do and waffles to eat and a town to save.

So, when Ben rolls over at a very late nine in the morning to the feel of her, her warmth and the way she’s curled into him, her blonde hair fanning around her like a halo, he immediately starts to panic a little bit.

Leslie is actually sleeping. Peacefully. She's breathing softly and she's not snoring and she's definitely not sleep talking, and it hits Ben very suddenly that he wasn't woken up at all last night, and the thought kind of makes him sad. It's become routine, to wake up a couple times in the wee hours of the night, and take a couple moments just to stare at Leslie as she sleeps, listen while she speaks, lots of incomprehensible babbling about campaigns and policies and her future career as President of the United States. It secretly became Ben's favorite parts of the night; just time spent watching his wife, smiling at her, reveling in the fact that she is his.

But now it's nine in the morning and Ben slept all the way through the night. Could he have missed it, slept through it? No, he can't have, he’s way too light a sleeper, especially lately. 

Especially since he and Leslie discovered just a couple weeks ago that she’s pregnant with triplets. Actual triplets. As in multiple children inside of his wife. Three of them! And she's so small, so tiny, and it came about so unexpectedly, that maybe Ben has been even more okay with being woken up in the night, because what if she needs him? Leslie never sleeps, and what if her pregnancy just makes those habits worse and she can’t get any sleep at all?

Ben frowns at her peaceful form, but the last thing he feels right now is peaceful. In fact, his heart rate starts to speed up, and suddenly he's grabbing at her shoulders, shaking her gently, because oh god, what if she's dead?

No, no, that makes no sense. Ben can actually see her breathing, soft and slow.

But what if she's not okay? Something must not be okay for Leslie to be quiet through the night, and to still be asleep at this hour. Ben never ever woke up before her and that is so wrong that he feels himself unraveling fairly quickly.

“Babe?” he whispers, gripping her shoulders. He wants to wake her, but not risk hurting her. She has three babies inside her, for God’s sake. “Babe, please wake up.”

Leslie doesn't even so much as roll over, or change the rate of her breathing. It's like Ben said nothing at all. He frowns, and shakes her a little harder. “Leslie? Leslie, it's nine in the morning.” Still nothing. “We can go to JJ’s, because it's a weekend. Waffles, babe! Whipped cream!” Still nothing. She isn't even stirring.

Ben really starts to panic now, and he gets up off their bed and paces their bedroom in just his boxers, running his fingers through his hair. He knows he must have wild bed-head and he's just making it worse now, but what does it matter? Leslie isn't going to notice because she won't even wake up. She's out cold, like he's never seen her before, and that's kind of scary. 

“LESLIE!” he yells, as loud as he dares to. For a moment, a small moment, he actually thinks that did the trick, because suddenly she's moving. But instead of sitting up or slowly opening her eyes, she just rolls over, curling her arms around a pillow, and nothing else. Her breathing doesn't even change.

Ben feels about ready to scream with frustration, so he throws on an old tshirt and bolts out the bedroom door. He resumes his pacing in the kitchen, where he figures that maybe if he actually makes waffles, Leslie will smell them and that’ll get her up. He's violently pulling batter and supplies from the cupboards, whispering under his breath.

“Oh god, oh god,” he mumbles, nearly dropping the eggs to the floor. Wait. Does he even need eggs to make waffles? “Shit, what am I doing?” His brain isn't working, and he truly doesn't know. He makes waffles for Leslie every damn weekend but he can't figure them out now? What kind of husband is he? Oh god, what kind of father is he going to be? Will he be able to make anything for his children or will he freeze up every time?

“Babe.” That voice is absolute music to Ben’s ears, soft from sleep but so amused, and he swears he’s never been more excited to hear his wife’s voice. “Babe,” Leslie giggles. “What are you doing?”

She’s standing across the counter wrapped up in a robe, her hair a beautiful mess on top of her head, all tired eyes and sallow cheeks. She is always gorgeous to Ben, but pregnancy has not been very kind to her yet. She throws up constantly from morning sickness, and before today, she wasn't sleeping very well. Eating has become more of a challenge, whatever she can get down is usually down the toilet not long after. And Ben is always there to hold her hair and stroke her back, whispering loving words into her ears, but the sight also kills him. He just wishes she’ll feel okay again, that she can eat what she wants. He wishes he can take the pain away from her, he prays some nights that her pregnancy can be transferred to him if it just means she can catch a well-deserved break.

“Oh my god, Leslie,” he gasps, and he drops the mix to the counter to stride over to her cupping her face in his hands. He presses a fierce and very long kiss to her forehead, just happy to feel her in his arms. His wife. The mother of his children. “Oh god. I was so, so worried.”

She laughs softly as he continues to kiss her, refusing to let go of her face. Her skin is soft and she has circles under her eyes and she smells like her vanilla scented body wash that Ben loves so much. “Wait, babe!” she grins, pressing at his chest. “What were you so worried about?”

Ben pulls back gently to stare at her some more. “I just… you didn't know? You always wake up before me and you didn't.”

“Well, that happens sometimes—”

“And you didn't talk in your sleep. Not once. And when I tried to wake you up, you wouldn't get up. You were out cold.”

Leslie’s brows furrow, clearly understanding now just how strange this behavior is. “I was?” she blinks. “That's… weird. I don't think I've ever done that.”

“Exactly! I didn't know what to do, I was panicking!”

“Oh, honey,” she muses, and she gives him an affectionate look. “Are you stress shamwowing again?”

“Maybe!” he squeaks, and then proceeds to clear his throat. “I'm just… worried about you. I keep thinking about…”

“I know,” she says. “But I'm okay, really! Actually, I think I feel better today than I have been for a while. I was just really tired. It's all the pregnancy, these three little heathens, they're doing things to me.”

Ben laughs a little at calling the kids heathens, but frankly, he feels inclined to agree currently. “You're really feeling better? Not like you're going to throw up or anything?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, none of that. Actually…” A sneaky grin spreads across her lips, and Ben glares at her.

“Don't say it,” he warns. “I swear, Leslie, don't say it—”

“I feel like I can go to work!” she exclaims proudly, and there she is again, the bright and expressive Leslie Knope that Ben has always loved. Even if her habits can be a bit of a pain sometimes.

“No,” he shoots down. “Absolutely not! It's the weekend, babe, they don't need either of us today—”

Leslie pouts. “Fine. Work from home, then. Binders and waffles and brainstorming.” She's already running out of the kitchen, over to where he knows she keeps her stack of binders. “You can't stop me! I love you!”

Ben sighs, and knows she's right: he can't stop her even if he tried. He's not sure he would even want to. “I love you, too.”


	2. Don't Get Ben

“I'm fine, I promise.”

“Leslie, you're clearly not fine. You look sick—”

“I'm not sick!” she shrieks, but as she says it, she's doubling over her desk, one hand on the wood and the other clutching her stomach, where a barely-there bump is forming. “Just… just go, April, go back down to work, you shouldn't even be here.”

April crosses her arms and stares Leslie down. Clearly, she doesn't believe her. But it's true, April shouldn't be here. The work day has started and while April was kind enough to come up to the third floor of City Hall to bring Leslie a decaf coffee, she should really be heading back down to the Parks department now before Ron notices she’s missing.

When April doesn't answer her, Leslie tells her as much. “Ron is going to notice you're gone. I appreciate your help up here, but you don't work here, you told me no, so really… really you should get out.” Leslie squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath, willing herself not to throw up, not again.

April glares at her. “Um, no offense, Leslie, because you're like, pregnant, but you're kind of being an ass right now. You don't have to—”

“I don't care what I have to do!” she snaps, but she feels bad as soon as she says it. An involuntary tear leaks from her eyes, and it's getting much harder to stand. God, her feet hurt, and why the hell did she choose to wear heels? Why couldn't she be in sweats and socks at home right now? “Oh god, I'm sorry,” she starts to sniffle. “I'm so sorry, I'm just… I promise that I'm okay, April. It happens a lot, but it'll pass, and I'll be fine to keep working. There's a lot of work to do today—”

“Yeah, there always is with you. National parks, big shot, federal job, blah blah blah.” April rolls her eyes and clutches her bag tighter. “Do you need me to get Ben? I can get Ben, stop by the City Manager’s office on my way down—”

“Don't you dare get Ben,” Leslie hisses, switching up her tone once again. “I swear to God, April, don't get Ben. He's done enough for me, and I was already a handful this morning, and he really has a big day today and needs to focus. I can't bother him with this all the time—”

“Yeah, I'm getting Ben,” April nods, and she turns to leave the office, Leslie whining behind her. She wants so badly to run after her, to force her to promise not to even utter a word of this to Ben, but she finds she can't. The sickness is coming up much faster than she expects it to.

It's all Leslie can do to push herself off her desk and dart towards the nearest bathroom, pushing people out of the way and slamming doors to get there on time. She pushes a stall door open and collapses to her knees, heaving into the toilet, taking a moment to curse the three little heathens inside her stomach that seem very intent on torturing her.

It isn't long before she’s sobbing into the toilet bowl, hating the way the vomit burns in her throat, how her ankles and her knees are aching, how she feels dizzy and tired and for once in her life all she wants to do is sleep instead of work. Who even is Leslie Knope if she doesn't love to work? Just last night she got an entire eight hours of sleep. EIGHT HOURS! That was a new record!

She cries because she's alone, and it hurts and she hates this, and she cries because she feels very guilty that she hates this; she knows this is just what it takes to bring her children into the world. And god, she already loves her children, so damn much, but do they really have to make her feel like this? 

In only minutes, there's a soft, but steady hand on her back, and she recognizes that touch without even having to turn around to see him. His fingers run up and down her back, and he kneels down so he is warm against her. She cries harder because as happy as she is to have him here, it means he's missing his duties at work to come deal with her again.

“I'm so sorry, honey,” she chokes, holding her forehead in her hands. “Oh my god, I'm the worst, I told April not to go get you…”

“Well, I'm very glad that she did come get me,” Ben whispers, and his fingers tickle her neck as he works to pull her hair from her face. “And don't you dare talk like that again. No apologies, and you're definitely not the worst.”

She sniffles, her stomach twisting again. “But you're so busy! You're City Manager now, and I know you have so much to do, you're a very important and sexy man, and you shouldn't have to come and comfort your wife every time she feels like she's going to throw up…”

Ben shushes her gently, one hand holding her hair back while the other wraps around her middle, keeping their bodies pressed together. “Hey, what did I say about talking like that?” He kisses her hair, and doesn't move away. “And I want to come and comfort my amazing, super strong and powerful wife whenever she has to throw up, because she has the very important job of bringing life into this world. Which is far more important than any City Manager job.”

Leslie’s lower lip trembles, and feels like crying in gratitude from that speech alone. She really couldn't have married anyone better, could she? She hit the jackpot with this husband. “It's just going to keep happening,” she tells him, unable to help herself. “And it'll get worse, too. I'll get bigger and bigger, it's nothing right now, but I'll be massive, and it'll be hard to move, and we’ll have to deal with weirder sleeping habits and odd cravings and terrible mood swings, and—”

“— and there's no one I would rather do it with than you, Leslie,” he says. “These children… they're a part of us. They are part you and part me, and they're ours. And our family is the most important thing in the world to me, so you're kidding yourself if you think I'd want to be anywhere else right now.”

This time she really does start to cry again, but not as loud and ugly as before. Ben leans over to see her face, and she can see the love in his eyes, even now, even when she's as much of a mess as she is. Without even having to ask, Ben rolls up toilet paper and wipes off her face, flushing the vomit down the toilet, and uses the pads of his thumbs to brush her tears away. He pushes the sweaty hair off her forehead, running his fingers through to massage her scalp. And he just holds her. He holds her on the floor of the women’s bathroom as she cries, not saying a word, just letting her release it all until she can't cry anymore.

“God, I love you,” she tells him, and she means it with her whole heart. “I brought a change of clothes, and some makeup to make myself presentable again. Do you think you can help me?”

Ben smiles at her. “I love you, too, but… I think I can do you one better, babe.” And when Leslie raises a brow, “Let's go home. Let's both just call in early and take the rest of the day. We can watch movies and cuddle and take a nap on the couch.”

Normally, Leslie would reject this. Old Leslie wouldn't even consider this, and would laugh at Ben for even suggesting it. But now? Now, she's tired, and everything hurts, and even though it was supposed to be a busy day, cuddling up with her husband on the couch sounds far more appealing than paperwork.

So, Leslie smiles, and leans into Ben. “I'm gonna cuddle you so hard when we get home, just you wait.”

Ben laughs, and holds her elbows to help her stand up. “Oh, I'll be holding you to that.”


	3. Why Do You Care?

April doesn't feel bad about getting Ben. She hardly feels too bad over anything, really, but she especially never feels bad when it comes to helping Leslie.

Sure, Ben had looked busy, and a little annoyed that she had bust into the City Manager’s office without warning, but as soon as she explained what was going on with Leslie, he didn't question it at all. He just shoved his papers to the side, thanked her, and ran up to the third floor.

The sight kind of brought a smile to April’s face. It was sweet. Whatever.

She still doesn't feel bad about it when she finally steps into the Parks and Rec department, an hour late for work, with Ron looking a little more than annoyed.

“What the hell were you doing for so long?” Ron asks her from his office doorway, his mustache bristling. April gives him a weird look.

“Ew, why do you care?” she blinks at him. “Since when are you an actual boss?”

Ron’s face doesn't change, but she knows him well enough to tell he's still upset. “I don't care,” he insists. “But I know where you were.”

“Again, I ask, why do you care?” April rolls her eyes and turns her back to him, sliding into her desk. There's lots of work to pretend to do and she doesn't need Ron distracting her from screwing around. “And why does it matter where I was? It was important.”

His eyes soften a little, and then he makes a move that Ron does not do very often at all— he moves from the doorway of his office to stand in front of April’s desk. “How is she?” he asks her, much softer in tone now, and this time he can't really hide how much he cares.

April bites her bottom lip and looks up at Ron. “She's… okay, now. She was feeling sick. But Ben is helping her.”

Ron nodded once. “Good man.”

It's a rare and incredible compliment from Ron, that of course only comes out when Ben isn't around. April is close enough to Ron that she knows never to mention this to Ben, either. “Hey,” she says suddenly, and Ron turns back around to look at her, clutching his coffee cup tighter. “You know if you want to check in with her, you can go up there. She would love to see you, I bet.”

He grimaces. “I'm sure she would. But really, that's not what I'm thinking about right now.”

“Then what?”

Ron sighs, and April frowns at the sound. She's never seen him quite like this before, like he's thinking too hard and feeling too many things. Is Ron getting sick too? She knows better than to ask him any personal questions about it, but she still can't help but wonder. 

“I'm thinking about you,” Ron mumbles, looking at the rim of his paper coffee cup. “I know she's been talking to you about a job.”

Oh. That's what this is about. April shuffles in her seat, feeling a little awkward. “How did you find out about that?”

An amused expression crosses Ron’s features. “Andy never has been very good at keeping a secret.”

Dammit, Andy… April looks awkwardly away to some paperwork on her desk, pretending to be doing something with it. “I didn't want you to know yet, okay? Because it's nothing serious, yet. She hasn't given me a serious job offer. I've just been going up to the third floor more lately to… check it out, I guess. See how it would feel.”

Leslie had come to April over a month ago at the Unity Concert, pitching her the idea of working under her in National Parks. April had scoffed at the idea then, thinking it meant moving away from Pawnee, which she definitely didn't want to do quite yet. But ever since the job relocated to Pawnee, specifically the third floor of City Hall, Leslie has since been dropping more and more not-so-subtle hints about hiring April.

And April supposes she's been considering it, just a little. Testing the waters. Leslie could use the help, after all, if today was any indication.

“And you don't know what you want to do yet?” Ron asks her.

April shrugs, noncommittal. “We’ll see when she makes me an actual offer.”

Ron doesn't say anything to that, but she doesn't really expect him to. He just gives her a curt nod, glances at the messy paperwork on her desk and her nameplate, and then walks away, back into his office, shutting the door behind him. 

April releases a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

“What was that all about, babe?” There's a happy voice she recognizes, and Andy slides up to her desk, passing her a full cup of coffee; she had already had one when she brought one to Leslie, but she doesn't care. She always loves when Andy brings her coffee.

“Hey,” she says to her husband, and she smiles into the kiss he gives her, leaning over her desk to greet her. “It was nothing, really. Ron was being kind of weird.”

“Okay, but isn’t Ron always kinda a little weird?” Andy asks, and she supposes he has a point. He collapses into the chair across from her, and she doesn't even care that he props his feet up on her desk, sending papers flying.

“More weird than usual,” she tells him. “He almost seemed kind of… sad.” Ron Swanson, feeling sad? The idea seems ridiculous, even laughable, but April can't shake the notion.

The look in Andy’s eyes go soft, feeling empathetic, and April can't help but feel that she loves him very much right now, even if he hasn't done anything at all. “If he is sad…” Andy muses, clearly thinking very deeply, “he probably just wants to be left alone, right? He wouldn't wanna talk about it?”

As much as this answer makes sense, something small still nags at April. She shakes it off and takes a large gulp of her coffee— still warm. “You're probably right,” she says. “I think it's best if we don't ask him about it.”


	4. Goodnight Kisses

Ben is a little too quiet during their dinner date at Tom’s Bistro, but he just can't help it.

Leslie is all talkative and bubbly enough for the both of them, and Ben is just so glad to see she's feeling better. For several mornings she's almost had to come in late to work because her morning sickness has been painful and intense, leaving the both of them huddled together in the bathroom. They've started waking up even earlier in the mornings to account for it, practically carving out time in their busy schedules for Leslie to throw up all her insides into a toilet.

And every morning it happens, Ben starts to worry a little bit more. Yes, he knows morning sickness with pregnancy is normal. But is it this bad? And isn't morning sickness supposed to be… only in the morning? Why has she been sick almost every day, on and off all day? Is she going to stay sick? Is she dying? Oh god, are the kids dying?

It's safe to say that Ben has been spiraling.

And maybe Ben starts to spiral a little more when he decides some research might help him. Because research does the exact opposite of help him.

“Babe, are you okay?” Leslie asks him, a smile on her face, and for a moment, he's just so glad to see her happy, even if he can see the dark circles and the tiredness in her eyes. 

“I'm just… thinking,” he replies honestly, because he's far past the point of ever trying to lie to her. They know each other too well for that. “I've been thinking a lot.”

She reaches out to grab his hand. “You think too much sometimes, honey.”

She's probably right. Scratch that, she's definitely right, but that doesn't really stop him. He can't help it. And he's about to open his mouth to explain it all when a new voice appears, a very enthusiastic one in a very impressive suit.

“Yo, the Knope-Wyatt household in the house!” sings Tom Haverford, slamming his palms down on their table. “A date night for you two lovebirds?”

Ben and Leslie both smile at their friend, but for Leslie, it's short lived. “Tom, I love you, but if you don't get me a waiter here so I can order my food, I will kick you, I swear to God.”

Tom looks serious for a moment, but then he bursts out laughing. “Pregnancy getting to ya, huh, Les? Well don't you worry about a thing, booboo, I can take your order.”

She orders an incredible amount of food, and Ben watches her consider her options with a smile on his face, utterly fascinated by her. He prays to God that the food she orders will stay in her stomach, but she deserves to have a good meal that won't kill her. She deserves to not feel hungry for once.

Ben just orders spaghetti and a water, leaning towards simple, and in hardly any time at all, a waiter is bringing their food out to them, Tom at his side with a broad grin on his face.

“Wow,” Ben blinks, helping make room on the table for the dishes. “I'm impressed, Tom. That was quick. You seem to be doing a really good job here lately.”

“Correction, Bento-Box, I am doing a fantastic job here lately, business is booming!” Tom claps, and brushes the waiter away once all the food is placed. “I gotta say, I'm really happy here. In fact, I'm doing so well, that tomorrow I'm going right to the Parks department and putting in my formal resignation.”

Leslie gasps at that news, taking a breather from shoving pasta down her throat. “You're officially leaving? Oh, Tom! How do you feel about that?”

He shrugs. “Honestly, it feels good to move on. Donna thinks she's gonna leave soon too, Regal Meagle Realty is going hard. We’ll both still come to see you guys in City Hall, though.”

Ben grimaces, and there's a pang of bittersweetness in his heart. “Well, you'd better, because I can't imagine City Hall without some Haverford chaos.”

Tom claps Ben on the back, maybe a little harder than he needed to. “God, I bet it's boring without me. What about you, Big Shot City Manager? And Les, how’s National Parks?”

“Oh my god, I love it so much,” Leslie explains through a mouthful of pasta. “I'm really getting the hang of it now. I actually just hired Jerry a couple weeks ago… who for some reason is going by Terry now.”

Tom feigns a gag, but it's very lifelike. “Oh god, Jerry, Terry, whatever the hell his name is, not allowed in Tommy’s Bistro. And that is also my cue to leave.” He claps them both on the backs this time, and Leslie nearly chokes on her pasta. “Peace out, you old married broads.”

***

Ben somehow makes it to bedtime before he blows up.

He and Leslie are curled up in bed, and he can feel her fading already. She fits perfectly in his arms, and his fingers splay over her pregnancy bump, more and more obviously showing everyday. After only ten minutes, he expects her to be asleep, to start hearing her soft breathing again, and takes a moment to miss the days when he would fall asleep first and his wife would talk in her sleep.

But she's not asleep yet. 

“Ben,” she whispers, startling him. “Are you going to talk to me about what was bothering you earlier?”

He takes a deep breath, because he had been holding in his panic all day, pretending it didn't exist, pretending he was fine when any minute he was bound to explode. His hand freezes on her belly, and it's enough of a change that Leslie notices it instantly.

“Babe,” she sighs, and she wiggles around so a hand can cup his face. “Talk to me.”

She knows exactly how to get to him, and how dare she be so perfect for him? She doesn't even have to beg him, because with those two words all his worries are spilling out of him rapidly, incapable of being contained any longer. “I'm so scared for you,” he says, clutching her tighter. “I'm scared for our kids. I did a lot of research and do you have any idea how dangerous it can be to carry triplets? It's so rare, and there can be so many complications, and your morning sickness! Babe, I looked it up and I think you might have extreme morning sickness—”

“Maybe,” she interrupts him, her thumbs brushing his cheeks. “But we can talk to Ann about it. And if it stays bad we can go to the hospital.”

“Oh god,” Ben chokes. “That's… that's why I'm so scared. I don't want you to have to go to the hospital, I don't want you to be in pain every morning, and did you know triplets usually come early? Along with delivery complications? Oh god, and you're so small, babe, how are three kids gonna fit in you? How are they gonna come out? What if you get hurt, or they get hurt?”

She smiles softly at him as she interrupts him again. “You don't need to worry about that right now, I'm only three months along, babe.”

“But three months turns to four and four turns to five and what if they come then? What if they're too early? Fuck, fuck, Leslie, I read that triplets can come with stillbirths and I just… I just…” Ben almost starts to cry a little, working himself up, and he might have completely lost himself if Leslie hadn't taken that exact moment to kiss him.

Even years after their first one, a kiss from Leslie has the exact power to shut him up and render him powerless. His mind goes blank and he loses himself in her, in his beautiful wife, and she is so powerful, so strong, she can do anything.

When she pulls away, he misses the contact, so he holds her close. “I know about all that,” she tells him, and Ben blinks.

“How are you not freaking out?”

She sighs, her hand dipping into his hair, massaging his scalp. “Because, like I've told you before, I have you.” Leslie smiles. “Plus, I have so many binders prepared on the subject of birth. I've thought about everything. Literally everything, and it helped me feel pretty ready.”

Ben can't help but laugh, because that's so like her that he's surprised he didn't see it coming. “You think I can read those?”

She laughs too, and then everything feels simple again. Leslie kisses him, and the tension leaves his shoulders, like he's releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. He smiles into the kiss, and then pauses, thinking of something.

“I love you,” he tells her, looking right into her eyes. And then he dips lower down her body, over to her bump, where their children are slowly growing. All three of them.

He presses a kiss to the side of her belly. “And I love you,” he whispers into her skin. “And you.” A second kiss, right in the middle. “And you.” A final kiss, on the other side, before pulling himself back up to cuddle into his wife.

His children will be fine. They’ll be okay. Because their parents already love them very, very much.


	5. Don't Think

“Andy!”

April stands by the door of their house, shouldering her bag, a little anxious about how the rest of the night will unfold. A little anxious that she’ll get another lesson on responsibility if she doesn't get to dinner on time, and Andy is definitely about to make them both late.

“Sorry babe,” Andy gasps, sliding into the room in a jersey and his socks. “Wait, do I need to get more dressed up for this? Wait… where are we going again?”

April sighs in exasperation, but she still can't help but smile at him. He's annoying, but it's cute. He’s cute, even with his stupid jersey and his forgetfulness. She walks over to him and grabs handfuls of his jersey, pulling him closer to her. “Dinner, babe, remember? With Leslie and Ben. So you should probably at least put shoes on.”

Andy looks as if he recognizes these plans now, and glances down at his outfit. “Should… should I put on a nicer shirt? Ben once told me I should try to dress better.”

“Maybe Ben should dress better,” April tells him, rolling her eyes. “He dresses like a nerd. Don't change, but go put on shoes. We’re late and I don't want Leslie to yell at me.”

A part of April already knows that Leslie won't yell at her, that she probably has other ideas in mind. She's been dropping hints for over a month, even more so since that day her morning sickness was bad enough that April had to grab Ben. There's an opening spot in her Federal Parks job now. It's more obvious than ever that Leslie wants her for the job. But should she say yes?

She's talked to Andy about it before, and soon as she started to suspect Leslie was serious about the offer. Andy is actually really good about it. He always is, when it comes to April, and when it comes to serious things, and she appreciates the moments where she can sit in bed with him and just… talk. Just unload, and completely be herself, without any masks on or fear of judgment, and he does the same.

April and Andy sit in their car outside the Knope-Wyatt house, and April clutches the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. Andy looks at her.

“What's wrong babe?” he asks her. “You look… not happy. Do you wanna go home?”

“No, that's not it,” she sighs. “It's just… I'm a little worried. I keep thinking about the hints Leslie gives me, about working for her.”

“You still don't know whether you wanna do it or not?”

April shakes her head. “No idea.”

Andy grimaces, and takes one of her hands from the steering wheel to grab and squeeze it. His hand is warm in hers, and she instinctively smiles. “Just do what we always do, babe. Don't think about it. Don't make any decision unless she asks you, and then just randomly decide. Just don't think.”

April definitely doesn't want to think right now. “Are you sure that’ll work?”

“One billion percent,” he says, his eyes looking serious. “Hey, it worked for our marriage and that’s still going pretty well, huh?”

April rolls her eyes and pulls her husband in for a kiss. “You're right. I love you.”

So, they get out of the car and knock on the door, and even though April has known Leslie for several years now, she still isn't prepared for the enthusiasm when she throws the door open.

“April! Andy! Oh my god, it's so great to see you both!” Leslie cries, pulling them both into a big hug. Her growing baby bump, now at roughly four months pregnant, gets in the way, and again April can't help but marvel at how big she's getting so quickly.

April accepts the hug, but it's only because she knows a pregnant Leslie will actually cry if she doesn't, and that's worse than a hug. “Leslie,” she whines anyway. “You knew we were coming. And you see us at work like everyday!”

“Oh, I know but I don't care,” she mumbles, taking way too long to actually detach herself. April straightens herself out in time to see that Andy has found Ben, pulling him into a bone crushing hug where the pain is evident on Ben’s face.

“It's good to see you both, in a non-work setting,” Ben says, pulling himself free from Andy. “Good lord, that's… weird. I used to see you both in a non-work setting all the time.”

“Yeah, Ben,” April pretends to snap. “Kinda rude of you to get married and move out. Maybe we needed that rent.”

Andy blinks. “Wait, what are we talking about?” He looks genuinely lost, and he rubs his eyes as if thinking deeply. “What do you mean? When have you ever seen us in a non-work setting?”

Ben stares at Andy as if seriously worried about him, and April puts a hand on her husband’s arm. “Um… when we lived together? For almost a year?” Ben explains.

Andy smacks his head and laughs loudly. “Oh my god, that's right! Dude, that's totally crazy, I barely remember that.”

“Yeah, that’s because all Ben did was sit in his room and ignore us,” April adds, smirking a little at how easy it is to rile Ben up.

“I didn't—” Ben starts, and she laughs internally as he puts a hand to his brow and takes a deep breath. “Okay, let's sit down, shall we? Dinner is about to be ready.”

“Oh thank god,” Leslie gasps, and she's the first one at the dining table. April sits next to her with Andy on her other side, while Ben leaves for the kitchen to finish up with dinner. “You know what I really miss?” Leslie asks. “Alcohol. I'd kill for a glass of wine right now.”

“Wait, why can't you have alcohol?” Andy mumbles.

“You're the one that decided to get knocked up,” April tells her, just to tease her. She loves Leslie, really, she loves her so much, but it's also just so much fun to mess with her.

“I hardly decided!” Leslie insists, and April’s eyes go wide. Did she just admit that…? “Not like that!” she quickly fixes, seeing the look on April’s face. “Oh my god, they weren't… I mean, we weren't actively planning on it. Obviously we assumed it was possible but we weren't actively trying, so I guess you could say that they— they might be—”

“Oh my god, Leslie,” April laughs. “You're losing your mind.”

Ben, rejoining from the kitchen, shoots April a look and rushes to his wife, wrapping his arms around her protectively. “It's okay, honey, we don't have to explain ourselves,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her hair. April feels like gagging. It's unnecessary, Ben’s whole play here, the way he's holding her and talking to her. Once upon a time Ben would've just sighed at April’s ribbing, but now he's shooting her dirty looks across the table as if she's seriously done something wrong.

His wife is pregnant with triplets, yeah yeah yeah. She's heard it all before. It's wonderful and it's great and whatever. She's happy for them. But god, if Ben isn't overly protective over Leslie now.

Leslie looks fine, smiling even, but still Ben hovers over her for too long before heading back to the kitchen for dinner. April already kind of feels like leaving, being social is way too much work sometimes, as much as she secretly does love Leslie and Ben. 

Andy leans over to her ear, and whispers as discreetly as he can (read: not so discreetly), “I still don't understand why she can't have alcohol.”

April is saved from answering him, however, when Leslie claps her hands together, staring very intently and very happily at April. “Okay!” she starts, and April swears her glow is almost blinding. “I have a confession to make. I invited the both of you here for dinner tonight for a very specific reason.”

“To murder us?” April guesses.

“No— to ask you a question.” If Leslie wasn't so pregnant she would likely be jumping up and down. “I was going to wait until after dinner, but Ben is taking way too long and I just can't help myself— love you, honey.”

Ben huffs from the kitchen, and Leslie continues. April knows now exactly what she's going to say— really, she's known the entire time. “April Ludgate. Beautiful and smart and amazing—”

“Stop it,” April huffs, feeling uncomfortable with the compliments.

“— I invited you here to formally ask you to work for me in Federal Parks, up on the third floor. There's an opening with your name written all over it. And you can start as soon as possible, as long as you say the words.”

Leslie is looking at her expectantly, and she's so happy, so hopeful. Andy looks between them both, and his words echo in her head. Don't think so much. Just decide. Wait until she asks, and just decide.

April never even expected to stay in the Parks department for this long in the first place. So why the hell not?

“What do you say?” Leslie asks her.

April just shrugs. “Fine.”


	6. Everything's Perfect

Maybe Leslie didn't need to throw April a party for her hiring in National Parks… but she definitely wanted to. And who can say no to a party?

She supposes the only place she went wrong was letting April choose the theme, but still, her Zombie Teenage Biker Gang Pizza Jamboree is in full swing, and everyone from the Parks department is here, and Leslie is rocking her leather jacket and goddammit, she just feels great.

This doesn't stop Ben from worrying about her, of course. She swears her husband really doesn't know how to enjoy a good party.

“Okay, one more time, are you sure you're feeling up to this?” Ben asks her, his hand stretching to rest against the small of her back. He hasn't left her side all day, but lately, that isn't out of the usual. She's only four months pregnant, but ever since the bump has really started to come in, she swears it's like he's been watching her every move.

Leslie gives him an exasperated smile. “Yes, babe! I told you, I'm okay. I hardly felt sick at all today.”

“Hardly?” he whispers, rushed. “That implies that you have felt sick today, at least a little bit.”

She takes a deep breath and grabs Ben by the shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Ben,” she says, her voice firm. “What's going on? We’re at a party, April is coming to work with me, I feel okay, so what's wrong?”

He takes a deep breath, and his eyes flutter shut in that way they always do right before he admits a truth. “I can't… stop thinking. Ever. You've been planning this party for a week straight and you could've been resting, taking time to breathe, relaxing. I just keep imagining you working yourself out and getting yourself hurt. And if you get hurt and I can't do anything about it…”

He trails off when Leslie presses a hand to his cheek, and he leans in to her touch, allowing her palm to cradle the weight of his head. “Oh, babe,” she whispers gently, looking at his closed eyes. “Hey, I know you're worried about me. I know you are, but doing things like this… this is how I relax. This is the kind of normal I need sometimes in order to breathe. That doesn't mean I'm not taking care of myself, and I promise I'll tell you if it ever gets to a point where it starts to hurt.” She presses a kiss to the corner of his lips and watches as he smiles into her palm. “We’re a team, okay? We’ve got this.”

Ben chuckles under his breath, and tilts her chin up with his finger to press a sweet and gently kiss to her lips. She can feel his tension ease against her, the way his muscles start to relax, and she might have deepened this kiss had they not been interrupted, remembering suddenly where they are.

“Ew, gross!” April exclaims, as Leslie and Ben pull away from each other (though, she notes, Ben still clasps his hand in hers, clearly unwilling to completely let her go). “Can you people maybe not make out at my party? Thanks.”

Leslie gives April a warm smile, and then grabs her arm before she can walk away, which she had already started to do. “Hey!” she says to her, and April stops. “I just wanted to check in, I feel like I've barely seen you today.”

“Um, yeah, that's because your husband hovers over you like a stalker now,” April deadpans, glancing at Ben. Ben, who still has a tight hold on one of Leslie's hands, and reluctantly makes the decision to let it go.

“I… am going to get a drink,” Ben says slowly, and then, as if trying to make a point, “and I'm going to say hi to Tom.”

Leslie rolls her eyes. “Bye, babe.” She turns back to April as soon as he walks away, grabbing her now with both her hands. “Is this not the best party of your life, April?! Seriously, tell me how it is. Tell me every little thing you like about it and what can be improved, and give me time to write it down so I can be better prepared for the next party I throw.”

April rolls her eyes. “Okay, well, it can be improved by you not asking me that, thanks.” But then she shifts a little, and her eyes get a little bit softer. “Honestly… I like it a lot, Leslie. Thank you for it. I guess I'm… kind of excited to come work for you.” 

She can't meet Leslie's eyes as she says it, but she takes it all the same. Leslie gasps with glee, holding April tighter, and she pulls herself away, swatting at her grasping hands. “Ew, no, get off of me!” April hisses, adjusting her jacket. “I don't want a hug, and you better not start to cry. I just wanted to tell you this party isn't totally lame even if Ron is being weird.”

Leslie blinks, and suddenly she's frowning. “Wait, what? Excuse me? What do you mean, Ron is being weird?”

April shrugs, and looks at her nails. “He won't talk to anyone. Like, more than usual. He's just been kind of sitting there, looking sad. He didn't even say anything when Andy and I totally got Terry to spill punch all over himself.”

Leslie looks past April to scan the crowd, but it doesn't take her long to spot Ron at all. He's sitting at a courtyard table, staring at the rim of a whiskey glass that he seems to have been nursing all evening. Occasionally, his eyes will flutter up to stare through the crowd, but for the most part, he keeps entirely to himself, his shoulders hunched. For a moment, this strikes Leslie as odd, but… should it? “Well, you know how much Ron hates socializing, and parties, and work events, and people, and… practically everything,” Leslie reasons, but there's an edge of doubt to her voice. “It's not weird for Ron Swanson to not wanna talk to anyone.”

April looks to be contemplating this same thing. “I mean, yeah, but he usually at least talks to me. Or laughs when we make fun of Terry. What's up with that?”

Leslie purses her lips. “I honestly do not know,” she admits. That is odd, for Ron, there's no doubt about that, but is it odd enough? If they were to voice their worry directly to him, he would most likely laugh at the even idea of him being sad, or emotional at all. He would probably tell them off for thinking this isn't perfectly normal Ron Swanson behavior.

Should she push this issue?

She notices Ben out of the corner of her eye, talking to Tom and Donna, but still keeping a careful eye on her at all times. He clutches his cup very tightly in his hand, and she knows just how hard it is for him to be leaving her alone. She sighs, and rubs her hand over her baby bump. “Maybe you should try to talk to Ron,” she tells April. This is delegating, right? She's passing the task on to someone else, because, like Ben tells her so often lately, she can't solve every problem by herself. And April and Ron have always been so close. “He’ll listen to you. He's probably fine, he might just be tired.”

“If you say so,” April says, striding off to Ron’s table without preamble. Leslie watches, just for a moment, the way there is a slight shift in Ron’s eyes when he looks up at April. The way they talk, just for a few moments, Ron's mouth barely moving. The way he finishes off the rest of his whiskey and places it back down on the table just as April walks away, and Ron is alone once more.

April would've come back to talk to Leslie if something was actually wrong with Ron, right? She totally would have. Everything is fine. There's no reason to worry unnecessarily.

Leslie takes a deep breath, and she moves on, pushing the smile back on her face as she goes to save her husband from his obvious anxiety. He breathes the biggest sigh of relief when he sees her coming towards him, and he wraps his arms around her once more.

“Everything okay?” Ben asks near her ear.

Leslie smiles. “Everything’s perfect.”


	7. Refrigerator Lights

As much as she tries her best to hide it, Ben can tell Leslie has been acting strangely.

It starts with the low appetite. Normally, Ben wouldn't question this, because with her morning sickness, eating can get to be pretty hard for her. Except for now, four and a half months into her pregnancy, her morning sickness has finally been easing up a little— she's been doing better than she has for a while. But she's still not eating as much as she should.

Which confuses Ben. Don't pregnant women eat a lot? Don't they want all kinds of food? His research seems to have led him to this conclusion, but this makes no sense for his wife, who picks at her dinner and heads to bed early. So, Ben decides to test her a little.

So, maybe he surprises her with some waffles from her favorite, JJ’s Diner, with plenty of whipped cream on top for an early dinner, presenting it to her as she sinks into a chair on one Tuesday night.

“Oh, Ben!” she exclaims, and she's so overwhelmed with emotions that her eyes start to well up with tears— a reaction that Ben has become very used to. Still, though, because he's trying very hard to give her the best night ever, he sits next to her and brushes the tears from her eyes, kissing her face where it's wet.

“Eat up, babe,” he tells her. “You deserve the best.”

What he doesn't tell her is that he's watching her, studying her. And while at first, she very enthusiastically digs into her plate of waffles and licks the whipped cream from her fingers, she starts to fade all too soon.

She's barely halfway into one waffle when she starts wince, and then even stranger, starts to actually eat around the whipped cream. She's hardly eaten anything at all by the time she pushes the food aside and pats her belly. “This was so great, honey, but I'm really full. And really, really tired. Like, ridiculously tired. Do you wanna head to bed?”

Ben blinks at her, looking between her and the hardly eaten waffles in front of her. “It's… it's seven in the evening, Leslie.”

She doesn't seem fazed by this. “Is that too early for bed?”

And so, Ben’s investigation continues.

Every night he examines her eating habits a little more closely. And as they days go on, the stranger they get. Ben becomes something of an actual detective, and he's gone to such lengths to figure out what's going on with his wife that he's started leaving himself notes day-by-day, feeding her her favorite foods every night and detailing in his notebook how she reacts to them. It's different everyday, but the strangest so far has been that she can never finish a waffle. And since when is Leslie Knope incapable of finishing a waffle?

His detective work reaches an all time high when he decides to sneak out of bed one night, and for the first time in months, he's kind of glad Leslie has started sleeping like a rock. He hardly has to be careful at all as he disentangles himself from her, putting her arms back to her sides, and slipping out of their blankets to pull on a shirt and head to the kitchen. 

The first sign of foul play? There's nothing in the trash can. She's already taken the trash out. Usually, that’s Ben’s job. 

He peers suspiciously into the empty can, and then doesn't even hesitate to rush out the front door. Is this insane and stupid? Maybe. But goddammit, Leslie is being weirder than usual and he wants to know why, so he can help her, if nothing else. So, he takes an incredibly deep breath, and then pinches open the trash bin in the front of the house, using his phone flashlight to peer inside.

Waffle containers. And spilling from them, barely nibbled waffles covered in too much whipped cream.

Ben shuts the trash bin and pumps his fist in the air, unable to help the smirk that's spreading across his face. “Oh, I've got you now, Knope.”

Yet still, he's got his eyes set on playing the long game here. So when Leslie wakes up the next morning, he doesn't say anything to her, just smiles and kisses her forehead, tells her good morning, tells her he loves her. And maybe that afternoon he buys himself a box full of calzones because he deserves it, after his small victory last night, making progress in this mystery.

And maybe, because he's a little bit evil, he eats one of his calzones in front of her while he offers her more waffles, just to see how long she's willing to pretend that she still likes them.

She's very willing to pretend, it seems. She smiles at him and forces bites of the waffle, and he pretends not to notice the way she winces with each bite. Once again, she pretends to get full very quickly, and that night, for the first night in a very long time, Ben falls asleep first. Or at least, he thinks he does. By the time he felt himself drifting off, his wife’s breathing still hadn't perfectly evened, even if her eyes were closed. Odd. Just odd enough to detail in his investigation journal.

When Ben wakes up the next day, on a Monday, he reaches into his box in the fridge to pack a calzone for a nice work lunch, only to find himself staring at its contents with a blank expression. Something feels off. He counts and he recounts the amount of calzones left in the box, his eyebrows scrunching in concentration. Has he really eaten this many already? There's only…

Something hits him hard.

“No,” he whispers into the fridge. “It can't be…”

And his investigation finally finds itself at its height, getting closer and closer to its thrilling conclusion. And Ben has a plan.

That night, he lies in bed next to Leslie, and he notices the way she keeps her eyes shut, making herself comfortable, evening her breath, but Ben knows her so well that he can tell she's just faking sleep. And maybe it's a tiny bit ironic that now, he's trying to fake sleep as well, and trying to do a better job at it than she is. But Leslie hasn't been the one watching him sleep for months now, and her pregnancy hunger is bound to get the better of her before long…

Only thirty minutes into shoving his head in his pillow and pretending to softly snore, surely enough, he can feel Leslie start to shift in the bed next to him. She's careful, ridiculously careful, and she's moving very slowly, but eventually he knows she's pushing herself out of bed and wrapping a robe around her body. Ben doesn't dare open his eyes until he can hear their bedroom door creak open and then shut again.

He instantly tears the blankets off of him and doesn't even bother to throw sweats on over his boxers, he needs to be on time to catch his wife in action. Still, he has to play this safe, so he tiptoes across the room, and opens the bedroom door as quietly as he can, sneaking into his own kitchen like a goddamn ninja.

The refrigerator is open, it's light barely illuminating against the tile. There's a scuffling sound, something like cardboard, and the unmistakable sound of desperate chewing. Ben starts to smirk. Gotcha.

With just a flick of his wrist, he pushes the refrigerator door aside, and Leslie gasps, sitting cross-legged on the ground, caught red handed with a half eaten calzone halfway to her mouth. “BEN!” she yells, and then, as if realizing what she's doing, she shoves the calzone back into the box, closing it shut, but it's too late— he already knows. 

Ben is still smirking, looking down at her with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, well, well,” he muses in what must be an impossibly irritating voice, “If it isn't Ms ‘I think calzones are pointless’ Knope. The very same person who told me they're like pizza, but harder to eat. What have you got there?”

“Shut up,” she whines, her face burning red, and Ben laughs, sitting cross legged on the tile right next to her. “You're such a bully. I was hungry!”

Ben flips open the box and starts to take a bite out of the calzone Leslie started on. “You know,” he says between bites, “if you were sick of waffles, you could've just told me.”

She huffs, and steals the calzone back from him. “I would've! I tried! But you just looked so happy every time you brought me them, I didn't wanna let you down with my weird pregnancy cravings.”

Ben grins sideways at her. Her hair is glowing; she looks so damn beautiful in the refrigerator light. “God, I— babe, I hate to tell you, but that was kind of a ruse. I knew something was up and wanted to see how long it would take you to fess up. Apparently, it takes a very long time. And a few stolen calzones.”

Leslie gasps at him, shoving at his shoulders, but she can't hide that she's smiling too. “You bully! You total bully! You're the meanest person I know, Wyatt, this is why I couldn't tell you about the calzones.”

He smirks at her, and pulls her in for a kiss that she accepts with barely hidden enthusiasm. “Keep talking like that, and I'll keep all these calzones to myself, Waffle Hater.”

And she laughs, and shoves him again, and then she's leaning into his shoulder and grabbing for another calzone. He doesn't stop her. He's never had any intentions of stopping her.

Ben guesses part of being married and being in love is sharing his favorite food, because even when there's only one last bite of calzone left, he gives it all to her. He doesn't even hesitate. She's starving, after all.

Leslie can have all his last bites of calzones ever, for the rest of their lives, and he thinks he’ll be okay with that.


	8. We're A Team

“What if all three of them are boys? God, that would be a dirty house.”

“But what if they're all girls?”

“Oh god.” Leslie’s eyes widen in the passenger seat of the car, curling her arms around her baby bump of a nice five months. It's large now, much larger than she ever thought it would be at this point, and it's become a little too much of a frequent occurrence to have people stop her in the supermarkets or JJ’s Diner asking her when she's due, just for them to look incredibly shocked and even appalled when she tells them she's only at five months.

It was funny at first, but then it got irritating. So much so, that her and Ben made a little game of not telling strangers she's carrying triplets— just let them think she has one ridiculously large baby inside her tiny frame that will have to come tearing out of her.

Leslie thinks of three children coming out of her tiny frame. Okay, ouch. She pushes the thought aside.

“Well, three girls would be really cute,” Ben is saying. “I can learn to braid hair. Oh god…” His brows furrow, and suddenly her husband is starting to look incredibly emotional. “I want to braid their hair so badly. I really want a daughter.”

Leslie swears she could tear up just at the image of her Ben sitting with their daughter, his long fingers clumsily combing through her hair to learn how to braid. Okay, maybe she does tear up a little, but that's becoming incredibly common. “What if we don't have any girls?” she sniffles, and Ben looks a little sad at the idea too. “Oh my god, all I want is both, do you think that'll happen? Boys and girls? Maybe two girls and a boy? Two boys and a girl? Oh my god, babe, triplets gives you so many options!”

Ben smiles softly, and takes one hand off the wheel to grab her thigh and rub it soothingly. “Hey, hey, it'll be okay, don't cry,” he tells her, because apparently the tears are already staining her cheeks. “No matter what, it'll be okay. If they're all boy or all girls, or a mix, or one day they realize they're either or both or none, that’ll be okay. You know why?”

Leslie furiously wipes her tears away and nods at Ben. “Because we’re going to love these little monsters no matter what.”

He squeezes her thighs. “Exactly that. Because these three monsters are half you and half me and we’re bringing them into this world together. And they're a symbol of how much we love each other. How we’re a team.”

Ben says this to get Leslie to calm down, but it's so sweet that all she wants to do is cry harder. “Oh, Ben…” she weeps, rubbing her eyes. “You're really getting better with your stress and anxiety, aren't you?”

He quirks a brow at her, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I'm really not. I'm just getting way better at hiding it.”

The two of them laugh together, and maybe even cry a little together, all the way to Doctor Saperstein’s, and they wait together with bated breath to learn the sex of their babies. They don't want it to be a surprise. Leslie wants to know so she can plan outfits and millions of names accordingly, and Ben wants to know simply so he won't be in the dark about one more thing.

“Do you have a preference?” Leslie whispers to her husband, sitting with him in Doctor Saperstein’s office, waiting for the results.

Ben clutches Leslie’s hand tightly, and she knows this is where he's hiding all his stress— with the way he holds her like either of them might disappear if he lets go. “Just for them to be healthy,” he breathes, something slightly shaky in his voice. “I know they will be, I don't know, I'm being silly. Hey, do you need anything? A pillow, a head massage, whale sounds? I can get you whale sounds.”

Leslie giggles and reaches up to grab the collar of his shirt. “I do want something, actually.” He looks at her, eager and ready to provide. “A kiss.”

Ben takes a deep breath, and he leans in to her, pressing his lips firmly against hers. She takes it a step forward, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss, as if trying to swallow every ounce of anxiety inside of Ben. Slowly, as she grips his shirt and holds him tighter, his slight shaking begins to calm. He smiles against her mouth.

There's a cough behind them. “Well, are you ready to hear the sex of your babies?”

Leslie grins, and Ben jumps away from kissing her, only keeping a hand in hers. “Um, yes, yes please. Sorry, Doctor Saperstein.”

He waves them off with a crooked grin. “Oh, you're not the first to do that. I've seen couples do way worse.” He takes a moment to let that sink in, as if expecting to hear more from Leslie and Ben, but they just stare at him and the papers in his hand. “Oh! Of course. The babies. You two are having… two boys, and a girl!”

Leslie and Ben both gasp with the news, and suddenly they're grabbing each other in a hug, or as much of a hug as they can get with her pregnancy bump. They kiss again, or rather, multiple times. “Oh my god,” Ben whispers. “It feels more real now. Why does it feel more real now?”

“More real for _you_ , maybe, I'm the one carrying them!” Leslie kisses him roughly three more times for extra measure. “Oh my god, we have to start coming up with names now, babe. There's three of them, that's a harder job than most people get. How the hell can I come up with three entire names in just a few months?”

Ben laughs, tears in his eyes, and kisses Leslie’s forehead. “Please don't remind me. I can't think about making hard decisions right now.”

“Oh my god!” Leslie exclaims suddenly, and Ben jumps up.

“What? What is it? Are you hurt? Are you gonna throw up? Are they kicking, are you dying? Are they—”

“ _I have to call Ann!_ ” she shrieks, and she's fumbling for her phone to tell Ann the news when Ben puts his hand on hers.

“Woah woah woah,” he stops her. “As much as I love Ann, can we maybe wait to call her for two seconds? I have a treat for you when we get home.”

That makes Leslie pause. “A treat?”

Ben winks, uncaring of Doctor Saperstein still being in the room. “Or maybe a treat for me.”

Leslie laughs, and as fast as they can, they run out the room together to celebrate.


	9. Positively Radiant

It's six in the morning, and Ann Perkins feels very lucky that she's awake when Leslie calls.

It's all thanks to Chris, of course, who wakes up impossibly early every morning to get an early jog in— what he likes to call his “Beat the Sun Run.” But where once upon a time, Ann could ignore Chris getting up early while she slept in, now… now she has a bigger problem in the form of a much smaller human.

Oliver Perkins-Traeger. Not even a year old yet, and yet the most wonderful, incredible, ridiculously high maintenance and exhausting son ever. And today, he's waken Ann up with a cry that can't be ignored.

Ann is bouncing him on her hip to soothe him when Leslie calls, and for a moment, Ann almost doesn't even realize what it is. But the second her best friend's name flashes across the screen, her face lights up, and it hits her like a bolt of lightning: Leslie could have news on the babies.

She's been keeping track of Leslie’s pregnancy as much as she can of course, because what the hell else are best friends supposed to do if not stalk each other and tell each other everything? It results in many, many calls and video chats, as much as they can remember, and everytime it reminds Ann of how much she misses Leslie. Being in Michigan is great, and good for Oliver, but sometimes… sometimes she just really allows herself to miss Pawnee.

Ann pulls her phone up, answers the call, and puts her on speaker phone. “Hey—”

“ANN!” Leslie screams on the other end. “ANN, beautiful Ann, oh my god I have so much to tell you.”

Ann grins, the familiarity of her best friend's voice instantly making her feel a little better about waking up early. “That's great, Les, and I miss you so much,” she says, and she hoists Oliver up to get him in a better position on her hip. “But maybe we’re careful with the yelling? I've got Oliver with me.”

“Oh, my godson! Tell him I love him and he's a stunningly beautiful baby because, well, he's the offspring of you and Chris, so of course he is, and give him so many kisses for me, okay?”

Ann sets her phone on the table and sits down, curling both her arms around her son. “Well, you're in luck, you're on speaker, so he just heard all of that.” She soothes his head, trailing her fingers down his back. He's such a good cuddler once he stops screaming. “So, what's up? You've got news, right?”

Leslie sounds positively giddy with excitement. “Of course I have news! Wait, hold on—”

There's whispering on the other end of the phone, and a man’s voice, which Ann can only presume to be Ben. Though she can't see either one of them, she knows them both well enough to picture the scene: Leslie having woken Ben up with her loud phone calls, and Ben getting mopey and trying to get her to come back to bed. Ann snorts at the image.

“Leslie?” Ann asks into the phone. “If you're busy right now…”

“I'm not!” she replies instantly. “Ben is just… he’s doing that thing he does after—”

“ _ Don't tell Ann that! _ ” Ben’s voice cuts in on the side, in a rather frantic whisper, and suddenly Ann wants to gag. She knows exactly what's going on.

“Please, babe, it's Ann, I tell her everything,” Leslie is saying, and Ann clears her throat to make herself known in their side conversation.

“Leslie, you didn't… you didn't call me right after you two…?”

“Maybe,” Leslie giggles, and Ann sighs. Hearing all about your best friend’s sex life was totally normal and one thing, but being called while they're still naked in bed is a whole different thing. “We woke up really early! And now Ben is a sleepy and cuddly little puppy. It's fine.”

“Oh, god…” Ann mumbles. “Are you sure you don't wanna tell me later? I can clear time at lunch while I'm feeding Oliver—”

“No, Ann, I have to tell you now!” Leslie insists, and Ann knows better than to challenge her on this. When Leslie sets her mind on something, she will win, everytime.

“Okay, okay. Is it about the triplets? Did you find out the sex?”

“WE DID, ANN!” she yells, and then, as if suddenly remembering what Ann said about yelling, she whispers, “We did! Ben and I are having two boys and a girl, Ann! Boys and a girl!”

This kind of news can't help but make Ann happy, curling tighter around her own baby with a stupid, broad grin on her face. She wishes, for the hundredth time, that she could be with Leslie as she goes through pregnancy. Especially with triplets… “God, I'm… I'm so, so happy for the both of you,” Ann says. “You're going to make such great parents to your sons and daughter.”

She hears Leslie start to tear up and loudly sniffle, which is as good a sign as any that it's getting time to go. Plus, Chris will be back any minute now. “Oh, Ann, you stunning snow leopard,” Leslie cries, “I wish you were here. I really do.”

Ann smiles. “I wish I was there, too, Les. Well, in Pawnee, because no offense, I really wouldn't want to be exactly where you are right now.”

Leslie cackles. “Okay, yeah, you're probably right. Hey, I can call you soon, right?”

“Of course you can. But Chris is here and I have to get Oliver changed, so I'll talk to you then, okay? You should probably be getting back to Ben before he gets too whiny.”

She laughs at this, takes a moment to refuse to tell Ben what Ann said, and then they exchange I love you's and goodbyes. Ann is hanging up just as the front door starts to move, Chris bursting into the room without even a drop of sweat on his body.

“Ann Perkins!” he exclaims, pointing his fingers out at her. Ann and Chris meet in the middle, sharing a quick kiss just over Oliver’s head. “You are looking positively radiant.”

“Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?” she jokes. “You somehow look more energized than you were when you left.”

Chris grins, impossibly bright, and wraps his arms around both Ann and Oliver. He rests his head on Ann’s, and she breathes him in— somehow he doesn't even stink after his run. He just smells like Chris. She smiles in spite of herself.

There are no rings on her finger or Chris’. They have a baby and they share a home and sometimes she feels like she has no idea what she's doing while Chris has it all put together, but then other times he kisses her forehead and she feels like she can take on the world.

“Probably because I saw you, and our son,” Chris says into her hair, and Ann exhales. “I love you, you know.”

Ann looks up at him and smirks. “I guess I kinda love you, too.” And then, sneaky as ever, she drops Oliver into his arms. “And I think Oliver would love you even more if you changed him. That stink is on you, Traeger.”


	10. Undesirable

Leslie is irritated. And it doesn't take her long at all to figure out why.

She sits on her bed on an early Saturday morning, staring at Ben as he sleeps next to her. She watches him very carefully, taking in every detail as if she hasn't already memorized every inch of his skin. She looks at the way his hair sticks up in all directions, the slight bit of stubble on his chin that makes him look very rugged and sexy, she thinks, and the way he softly breathes into his pillow.

More so, however, she looks at his arms. She studies the muscle, carefully hidden, tight and slender, and she stares at his hands and his fingers, so long, and she pictures them curling—

Okay, she decides. She's irritated because she's horny.

She's also irritated because the last time they had sex at all was the morning she called Ann to tell her the news about the triplets, and it's been several weeks since then and she's starting to feel a little starved for attention. Not that Ben doesn't give it to her, of course, because really, he's kind of obsessed with her. He holds her hand or touches the small of her back or her shoulders literally everywhere they go, and at home he cuddles into her on the couch and when they fall asleep he pulls her close and breathes into her neck and kisses her hair.

And every night he kisses her stomach three times, just like he started doing so many months ago, and he tells the triplets that he loves them. And he tells her that he loves her.

“I love you and I like you,” he said the night before, his eyes fluttering shut, and it's remembering these words that Leslie realizes she really just wants to fuck her husband, but he hasn't been making any moves for way too long.

Leslie huffs, and rubs her legs together. What the hell is he waiting weeks for?

She stares at him until he eyes open, and he just looks so damn  _ hot _ , with squinting eyes and an incredible bed head. “Morning, honey,” he says to her, and his voice is low and gruff from sleep and it's so sexy that Leslie doesn't even say good morning to him, she just greets him by leaning over him and pressing her lips to his.

Ben doesn't object to this wake-up call at all, kissing her back with an appropriate passion, sliding his hand up to cup the back of her neck. She parts her lips against his and slides her tongue along his bottom lip— she's not going to be playing any games here. Ben speeds up the kiss and pulls her face against his, and she hums gratefully. Her fingers slide into his hair and pulls at the strands, taking it the extra step with a simultaneous bite to his lip. Ben groans into her mouth, and then starts to pull away.

“Well, that's a good way to wake me up,” he mumbles, smirking at her, but to be frank, Leslie isn't in the mood for talking. She pulls him right back in and this time, she firmly plants one of her hands on his chest, curling under his tshirt, stretching her fingers across the smooth skin of his stomach. Ben accepts this, leans into this, for just a moment, until the tips of Leslie’s fingers touch the waistband of his boxers, and he pulls away once again.

“Okay, okay,” Ben stops her, smiling nervously at her. “I, uh… um…” Leslie narrows her eyes. He's avoiding saying something, he always starts to stutter when he's trying to avoid saying something. “You, uh… I think I… I'm gonna go make us breakfast, okay? And uh, brush my teeth. And get pants on. Not necessarily in that order. Okay?”

He doesn't even kiss her one more time as he gets out of bed and leaves the bedroom, completely forgetting to put on pants in his eagerness to get out. The door shuts, and it leaves Leslie sitting there on their bed, a little confused and a lot frustrated.

She wants to just get up and walk out there and ask Ben what's going on, but what she doesn't expect is her sudden surge of very strong emotions on the subject. For a moment she's angry, and then more than anything else, she's sad, and even a little insecure, for once. Good god, is this really making her feel insecure? But as she suddenly starts to cry and she's gripping the bed sheets and staring at this huge thing that is her stomach now, she kind of starts to feel  _ undesirable _ .

Has pregnancy made her ugly? Does she no longer have sex appeal? Maybe Ben looks at her and, even though he loves her, he doesn't think she's sexy anymore? Maybe he doesn't want to have sex with her because she's gotten unattractive and way too large and she just doesn't do it for him anymore and—

“Leslie?” Ben’s head appears in the doorway, his brows furrowing. He still doesn't have actual pants on, and his hair is still a mess. She furiously wipes her tears away and pretends she wasn't crying. “What's wrong?”

She cuts right to the chase without even meaning to. “Why don't you wanna have sex with me?”

He looks genuinely surprised, coming all the way into the room only to shuffle awkwardly at the foot of the bed. “I— what? Where would you get that idea?”

“You've been avoiding sex, Ben!” she says, and her voice unintentionally gets higher pitched, as if she's frantic. “For weeks now! What happened between now and then, did I get  _ that  _ undesirable?”

“Oh god,” Ben mumbles, and there is actual panic in his face. “Oh god, I made you feel like… Shit. Leslie, that's not it at all. I promise you, you have never, ever been undesirable to me. Ever. That's not it. I just…”

She crosses her legs and watches him and he takes a seat on the bed next to her. “You just what? What is it?”

Ben squeezes his eyes shut and puts his head down. “I… I started to panic, okay? Because I wasn't thinking at all and then one day I just  _ was  _ thinking about it and I thought, what if I hurt you? What if we ended up hurting the kids? I know sometimes we… uh… we can get a little  _ carried away _ , and I got scared! God, I've… trust me, it's been driving me crazy, but I just… feel this overwhelming urge to protect you at all times and I figured that was bigger than me getting my rocks off.”

He looks ashamed to admit it, and for a second Leslie feels silly because of course he felt that way, of course he was just trying to protect her. All Ben’s ever done over the last five and a half months has been to protect her, even so much as holding her hand as she steps over puddles on the sidewalks. Of course sex would start to terrify her poor, way-too-anxious, rubber band of a husband.

But also, her rubber band of a husband really needs to relax and get some.

She reaches her hand out to grab his, and they smile at each other. “So… I've really  _ never  _ been undesirable to you?”

“Never. Not even once,” he says, moving closer to her. Her breath hitches in her throat.

“Not even the very first time we met?”

Ben is curling around her now, and he speaks into the crook of her neck. “Oh, especially not then. Are you kidding me? I couldn't stop thinking about you calling me a jerk for weeks.”

Leslie laughs just as his lips press to her throat, and it's enough to convince her to slide her fingers to his boxers again. “I wasn't aware that did it for you,” she teases him. “Maybe I should call you a jerk more often.”

His hands slide under her shirt, and he laughs into her skin. “Oh, you have  _ no  _ idea, babe.”


	11. The Hardest Task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my twitter group chat whine country for helping me completely shape this chapter and make it so great. Couldn't have done it without you all.

“This is genuinely the most difficult task I've ever been given in my life,” Leslie groans, angry enough to shove one of her binders off the coffee table and to the floor. “I mean that! The  _ hardest  _ task!”

Ben blinks at the remaining binders, stacked high on every surface of their living room… as if that's even the most concerning part. There's a large white board in front of the television, every spare inch covered with words.

“Honey…” Ben says cautiously. “It's just picking baby names.”

“Baby  _ names,  _ Ben!” she snaps, and Ben jumps slightly at the suddenness of it all. “Names! Plural! Maybe,  _ maybe  _ I could do this if it was one baby, but  _ three?! _ ” Her voice is shrill and panicky. “Three is impossible.”

“Okay, but… technically wouldn't three be easier? You're only narrowing it down to three instead of one. Less difficult choices.”

Leslie sighs and holds her head in her hands, falling into the couch. “Not… that's not… shut up with your logic, Ben.”

Okay, he can't help but smirk at that. She's frustrated, but she's not completely unreasonable. He moves to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She instinctively rests her head into his neck.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I know you've been stressed lately. I know work is picking up and you haven't been feeling your best and this might seem like a big, daunting task—”

“It'll be their names for the  _ rest of their lives,  _ babe.”

“— but we're okay. We will figure this out, even if it means going through… all one hundred of those names on the board. Okay?”

Leslie grins into his neck. “It's cute that you think I only have one hundred names.”

“Ah, of course, how could I forget the baby naming binders?” he laughs, rubbing her arm. “And we've been going at this seriously for only two weeks now, and there are still months before the babies are here. We have time.”

His wife holds on to him tighter, and Ben takes the opportunity to rest one hand against her belly, rubbing it just softly, reveling in the fact that those are his children in there. His children that they’re deciding the names of. “But what if we don't come up with anything?” Leslie asks him. “What if… what if we can just never choose, and then they're here and we don’t have names for them? What if we  _ don’t  _ have time?”

Ben grimaces and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You're worrying too much, babe, that's supposed to be my job. Is it because you're hungry? Do you need a calzone?”

He says it to tease her, and it works perfectly, her mouth hanging open in a dramatic gasp. “Say that one more time and you're dead to me, Wyatt.”

Ben laughs, and pulls up a notepad from the coffee table. “Okay, okay, no calzones. Let's just start this from the top, maybe that’ll help us. Give me the first three names that come to mind.”

Leslie shakes her head. “No, no, I keep doing that. That's why I have a million lists. It's your turn, I wanna hear your ideas. What names do you like?”

Ben pauses to consider this. What names  _ does  _ he like? He imagines television, movies, books… Music, celebrities, people he's known… What could possibly work for his babies? He chews on his bottom lip, and twirls a pen between his fingers. He's always wanted to name his children from one of his favorite movies.

“How about Luke?” he suggests innocently. “Star Wars, I know, but—”

“I like it,” she says, and Ben sighs with relief. “Luke is cute. Write it down as a maybe. What else you got?”

He writes down  _ Luke _ , his stroke of luck already giving him a bit of a confidence boost. This time, he thinks of  _ Game of Thrones.  _ “Uh… what about Daenerys?”

Leslie peers at him. “Really? Out of all the names on that show, you pick one of the weirdest ones? Why not that youngest Stark girl?”

Ben feels a little disappointed Leslie doesn't remember her name, but he lets it slide. “Arya. Okay, yeah, that's cute. I can work with that. A maybe.” So he writes that down too. “What about Cleo?”

This time, Leslie puts her head in her hands. “Oh god, please don't tell me that's from—”

“Like Letters to Cleo! Oh my god, or we could do—”

“If you say Kay, I will kick you.”

Ben huffs. “Fine. Not Kay. But can I write down Cleo?”

“Absolutely not. Keeping thinking, buddy.”

He digs through his brain, and he's suddenly liking this idea of using names from bands and his favorite musical artists. An idea pops up, and he nearly jumps with excitement. “Oooh! For a boy— Stipe!”

“Why the hell wouldn't you just say  _ Michael?! _ ”

But now Ben is on a roll. Next, he moves on to people he knows. “Oh my god…  _ Wreston.  _ Babe, that's such a cute name!”

“ _ Like St. James the Eagletonian?”  _ Leslie spits the words out, looking at him incredulously. “Oh my  _ god,  _ Ben, do you need to take a walk? Get some fresh air? No offense, but you're actually the worst at picking baby names.”

“I had two good ideas!”

“ _ One  _ good idea. Technically I'm the one that suggested Arya.”

Ben pouts, staring at his very short list of names. Maybe she's right— but he did have so many more name ideas he could've gone through. “Well, if mine suck so much, give me some of your favorites, then.”

She doesn't even pause to breathe before she's rattling off baby names at record speed. “Eleanor, Ruth, Sonia, Elizabeth, Abigail. Henry, Stephen, Joseph—”

“That's not for Biden, is it?”

“ _ Maybe _ , that’s not the point—”

“And you say  _ I’m  _ bad at picking names,” Ben mumbles, and Leslie glares at him before continuing. 

“Robert, Harry, Westley—”

“Woah, woah, woah, from  _ Harry Potter?  _ And  _ Princess Bride? _ ”

“If you get nerdy choices, so do I,” she huffs. “And besides, you love  _ Princess Bride _ , don't lie.”

Ben purses his lips. “Okay, fine, Westley is kind of a really awesome name.”

“Yeah. I told you. Write that down.”

He does as she says, and then considers her other name suggestions. “So, we have… important women in politics, and… family?”

She nods eagerly. “Cute, right? Write them all down, and then keep going, because I have a ton more—”

“Wait, no,” he stops her, holding a hand up. “No more name suggestions, I'm capping it with the ones you've already said. Because they were the first picks in your head so clearly they're the most important. We can narrow down from here.”

He sees Leslie struggle internally with this, but eventually she sighs and nods her head. “Fine, fine. We can keep these options. They're pretty great choices.”

“I'm not putting Joseph on there, just to make that clear. I am not naming my son after Joe Biden.” And Ben thinks he's totally justified in that, even if Leslie looks a little miffed. “Okay, you know what? I have a good idea. What if we just… stopped narrowing the list down.”

“What?” Leslie exclaims. “But how are we supposed to pick? How can we narrow it down to three? Ben, you don't understand, we have to—”

“Just listen to me,” he interrupts, pressing his forehead against hers. “We'll keep this list. We can even look it over everyday, to remind ourselves of them. But what if… what if we don't actually make a decision until the kids are born? Sometimes you don't really know what kind of name is best for them until you see them. And when we see them… I have a feeling we’ll just  _ know. _ ”

For a moment, Ben feels like Leslie won't agree. That she'll shake her head and adamantly refuse to put the task off for that long, that she’ll say he's crazy, that they need to pick now before it's too late, but she does none of those things. Instead, she sighs and grabs his face, smiling right at him. “Okay,” she whispers, a little shaky. “Okay, you're right. I love you and you're very smart and right more times than I like to admit. If you think this is best, then… then we can do that.”

Ben sighs in relief, and leans forwards to press a kiss to her lips that they both smile into. His hand is still lingering on her bump, wondering what it'll be like, what it'll  _ feel  _ like, to finally see their faces for the first time. He has a feeling when the time comes, he’ll be able to look right into their eyes and just know exactly who they are.

“I love you too,” Ben tells her, and then he starts to smirk. “Of course, if you didn't agree to that idea, I would've had to suggest we call it a day and name the triplets Luke, Leia, and Han, but—”

Ben can't even finish teasing her, because Leslie is already walking out of the room, shaking her head. Ben bursts out laughing.

“So that's a no?”


	12. Never Scared

Andy Dwyer doesn't want to admit he's scared, because Burt Macklin is never scared. 

But when he's approached by a random guy after one of his shows, he’s a tiny bit terrified.

“You're Johnny Karate?” the man asks him, and Andy can't help but notice he looks very official and professional. Meanwhile, Andy is a sweaty mess with his guitar strapped to his back, his voice sore from singing as many songs as he could remember to the kids at this birthday party.

“Yes, sir, yes I am,” Andy tells him, and he's already looking around for his super hot manager-wife. “What can I, uh… what can I do ya for?”

“If I might ask your real name?—”

“What's this about?” Oh, thank god, April is here, she's always so good at sniffing out when Andy is in trouble. “What do you want with Johnny Karate? He's a very busy man.”

“Uh— who are you?”

April holds out her hand, but puts it right back down when the man moves to shake. “The name’s April Ludgate-Karate-Dwyer. His manager.”

“And my super hot wife,” Andy adds, very helpfully, he thinks. The man smiles politely.

“Ah, I was actually coming over here to put out an offer,” he says. “I've heard a lot about the character of Johnny Karate, you see, and people quite seem to like him. We think he has great potential to do even more.”

“More birthday parties?—” Andy starts, but April puts a hand over his mouth to cut him off.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Actually, we’re interested in expanding the character through television. Johnny Karate would make an excellent host to a children’s show, if you were on board, and we could set up a pilot…”

Honestly, Andy doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Because suddenly he starts to get really, really nervous. And maybe he kind of even sort of starts to black out and doesn't remember even getting home— but also, that's not super unusual. 

“What are you thinking about?” April asks him, and they fall onto the couch together, April tossing her legs over his lap.

“Me? Nothing,” Andy says, and usually that's mostly true. Except that today he can't stop thinking that… did that guy actually offer him a television show? Like, for him to be on and say lines and stuff? As Johnny Karate? That was objectively way cooler than just singing at a bunch of kids birthday parties.

“You wanna do it, don’t you?” April asks.

Andy sighs. “You're so smart, babe.”

“Why won't you just say you wanna do it?”

“I dunno!” And he doesn't know, really. Why does he do anything that he does? Why is this decision, that should be so easy, actually kind of making him feel sick? “I dunno the first thing about being on television, babe, I don't even know where to start. It kinda feels like London all over again.”

April massages his arm as his hands rub into his eyes, hating the way this feels. “Hey, what did I say to you then?”

Andy deadpans. “Uh, only make fun of the way they talk when I'm alone or on call with you?”

“What? No—”

“Don't use my British accent around them?”

“Babe, no—”

“Then I don't know how I'm supposed to remember. I don't even remember the drive home.”

April grimaces, and she scoots closer to Andy so she can rest her head on his shoulder. Her voice drops to something more resembling a whisper, and Andy leans in closer to her to hear. “I told you nobody knows what they're doing. We’re all just faking it, remember? I think… I think if you want to try out this TV show, you should totally do that, because it could be the time of your life. And you’d be way better than all those other gross old TV hosts.”

“Yeah… yeah! I'd be way cooler than those old hags,” Andy scoffs. “You know what? I am gonna do it. I'm gonna tell that fancy man that I'm gonna do his TV show with him.”

“It'll be a lot of work,” April tells him, holding his face in her hands. “You're probably gonna have to work everyday, Andy.”

“God, keep talking like that and you're gonna talk me out of it.”

April grins. “And… you know what this means for your current job, right?”

And that was when Andy really started to frown, because he knew exactly what that meant. “Oh no, babe, do I have to quit at the Parks department? I love that job so much, and Ron—”

“Ron, I know,” she sighs. “Ron probably won't like it, especially when you're the only two still left.”

“Yeah, everyone else is a bunch of new guys, totally not as funny as the rest of you. I miss Tom and Donna and Ben—”

“Ben… didn't really leave, babe. He's your boss.”

“But he's not in the Parks department! And neither are you or Leslie… Man, if only it was just stupid Terry that left.”

April makes Andy look at her, and he leans into her palm. She has her serious face on. “But people move on,” she says. “Ron’s a man, he’ll be fine. He knows we're all still friends. Besides, there's no need to quit now. You'll just start working on the pilot, and if it takes off, if it goes well, then… then we can worry about telling Ron.”

And that makes Andy feel a tiny bit better. Because honestly, if he has to admit that he was ever scared… it's definitely because he's scared of making Ron Swanson sad.

But, of course, Burt Macklin and Johnny Karate never get scared.


	13. Calling Ron

It feels enough like an ordinary day in the office, but really, it's the day that changes everything.

Ron Swanson gets his usual coffee in the morning and brings it to his office, like he always does, and he doesn't greet anyone, like he never does. He clicks his door shut and he works— pretends to work, really, by approving absolutely no projects and taking no calls. He never takes calls.

So when the first call comes in unimpeded, that's when Ron really starts to realize what's happened.

He stares at his office phone as it rings, wishing he doesn't have to pick it up, taking a deep breath as he wraps his fingers around it and holds it to his ear. “Swanson. Parks and Recreation department.” Yeah, that's the best opening line they're going to get from him.

The woman on the other end of the phone goes on and on about broken swing sets and the demand for new park benches and water fountains for what feels like hours, and Ron doesn't say a thing. He lets her talk, and he doesn't listen at all, and for a split moment, he finds himself wondering why April let this call go through.

And then he remembers April is not his assistant anymore. 

So he cranes his neck out the window of his office to catch a glimpse of Tom, feeling the need to blame someone for this, when he remembers that Tom is gone too, to better work at Tom’s Bistro. Ron is proud of Tom, he really is.

And the woman continues to shout in his ear and Ron looks in the other direction, hoping to pawn this off to Donna. She's gone, too. Her real estate business. She's very busy. So who can Ron blame this on, Jerry?

Not even Jerry is here, to take the fall for this incredibly disruptive call. And, that's right, he goes by Terry now, up on the third floor. With April, where she also works now.

And when Ron thinks of April, he thinks of Andy, who came into Ron’s office just yesterday to submit his resignation because, apparently, he’s getting signed for a television show for Johnny Karate. The pilot went well, Andy had told him. They loved Johnny Karate. And Andy loves doing it.

Ron can't be upset. He's proud of Andy, really, so proud, because at least Andy is capable of getting away from government work. Andy and Tom and Donna. Really, Ron can't be happier for them, even if it means some of his closest workplace proximity acquaintances are no longer around the office.

And it's around now that Ron realizes just how empty the office feels.

And it's when he looks across the way to the Deputy Director’s desk that he starts to feel something odd, in his chest, something kind of resembling actual emotions. And he vaguely realizes that the woman on the phone is still talking, about there being too many birds in the parks now, and Ron thinks of a time where he could've easily passed this duty on to Leslie Knope and she would've taken it with a smile and a clap of her hands.

And now her desk is empty and so is everyone else's, and for some reason this feels like the first time Ron has really understood this, and dammit, that kind of hurts.

He doesn't really remember the last time he saw Leslie. Which is weird, because once upon a time, he couldn't go a couple minutes without her bothering him over something. Ron sees Ben, sometimes, because he’s City Manager and he has to check in, but they never exchange more than simple greetings. They’ve never been too particularly close. Ron suspects Ben is slightly scared of him.

And Ron never asks Ben about Leslie, because Ron has a rule to never, ever ask about personal matters, even when he kind of really wants to (as rare as that is). He sees Ben is nervous, he’s more tightly wound than usual, he sees the stress in his eyes and the shaking of his hands because his wife is having triplets, but Ron doesn't ask. He doesn't know how far along Leslie is, doesn't know how much she's showing, doesn't know when she's sick, or if she's still getting work done.

That's silly to wonder. Leslie is always getting work done.

And one day Ron really kind of wanted to pull Ben aside and tell him to make Leslie rest more, because he knows damn well she isn't getting the relaxation she needs. Ron knows Leslie too well and he knows just how much she's likely working, how she won't stop for anyone, but if anyone can help her, Ben can.

But Ron doesn't say anything. He sees Ben shaking and the way he's fiddling with his wedding ring as an anxious tic, but he doesn't even ask. Ron never, ever asks.

Ron doesn't know the sex of the babies, he realizes. Or if they've picked any names. And it dawns on Ron that they either haven't told anyone, or they forgot to tell him, but either way, he's in the dark, and that doesn't feel good.

For once, just fucking once, Ron Swanson would like to know about the personal lives of his old coworkers, but he doesn't get to know. And that kills him.

And he wishes he could be mad at Leslie for taking April and even Jerry up to the third floor with her, for making herself unavailable, but he can't. Because a part of him understands. Maybe with time, he can grow to be more angry. Maybe one day, he can be hardened again.

But right now, as he finally puts the phone down to hang up on the woman’s monologue, Ron kind of lets himself be upset. He pulls out a glass and his whiskey bottle and takes a very generous drink. When he looks out his office windows, a small part of him still expects to see Leslie, April, Andy, Tom, Donna, Jerry— even Ben and Ann, always around at Leslie’s request. He expects to see them laughing together at something Jerry did, or Leslie making loud comments about Ben, or April explaining something to Andy, or Tom and Donna discussing artists that Ron has never heard of in his life. 

But none of that exists anymore.

When Ron looks out his window, he sees men and women he feels as if he's never seen before. They sit on each other’s desks, and they laugh, and they're so far disconnected from Ron that it's no wonder he can hardly place them. They are not Ron’s people.

Ron doesn't recognize anyone here anymore.

That must be the thought that finally snaps something inside of Ron, because he makes a decision, right then and there, one that he never thought he would make. But it's true, what they say, isn't it? That sometimes you have to make an effort if you want to keep people in your life.

Ron never wants to make an effort, but he supposes he can make an exception for this.


	14. Waiting Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take some creative liberties here because in canon, Leslie asks Ben to "pick up the kids" when, in the timeline, she's still supposed to be pregnant.  
> Dialogue taken directly from 7x4 "Leslie and Ron"!

Ron doesn't remember the last time he was on the third floor.

It's different than he expects, and it's busy. Incredibly busy. People rush back and forth and papers fly everywhere. He steps out of the elevator and already, he can see Jerry dropping everything and April talking to someone by her desk. But, of course, it's Leslie who notices him first.

She raises a hand to greet him. “Hey! Well, my, my, my, do my eyes deceive me? Is that Ron Swanson?”

And he's glad to see her,  _ really,  _ but just the fact that she's so surprised to see him kind of says it all. He honestly can't remember the last time they had a proper conversation. “Hello, Leslie.” And, making note of his old coworkers in the back, “Hello, April, Larry—”

“Uh, it's Terry now,” he smiles, while April waves and flitters away.

_ Okay, so he's not even caught up on Terry’s new name.  _ That's a first for Ron. “Okay,” he mumbles, shaking that off. “Well, as luck would have it—”

“One second— oh,” Leslie interrupts, and she grabs a file from someone running by. “Did you talk to Randy about the vote? Tell the Northeast that we need to put pressure on them, or else we’re gonna be waiting forever, and I'm tired of waiting on them, okay?” The other man nods, instantly running off again, and Ron feels dizzy just by the energy of this office, everything running at Leslie Knope speed. She gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, this is a crazy day.”

It is, clearly, and Ron begins to wonder if this isn't all some big mistake, that maybe he shouldn't have come at all. Leslie is busy and important and has so much work to do, all on top of being pregnant with triplets.

And it strikes Ron that he hasn't seen her in so long that it's like he's seeing her baby bump for the first time. She's much larger now than he remembers, and he can only imagine the kind of pain she must be in daily, even now, working when she should be resting. He wants to tell her… but now isn't the time.

Leslie smiles at him again, and he tries to find the old her in there. “So, what's up with you, you big lug?”

“Nothing important,” he answers immediately, because it's the truth. “Just thought you might wanna have lunch. Uh, tomorrow?”

And Ron remembers  _ exactly  _ why he doesn't do this, exactly why he doesn't put himself out on the line, because there's nothing worse than feeling vulnerable.

But Leslie answers without hesitation, and things start to feel familiar again. “I would love to! It's been too long. JJ’s Diner, 12:30?”

“Excellent, see you then.”

“Okay!”

Ron is already walking back to the elevator to get out of there, as quickly as he possibly can, feeling good about his success. He barely catches April walking up to Leslie as the elevator doors close.

“So, Randy says the House is voting tomorrow, and they need us in Washington to prep…”

***

Ron isn't much used to feeling so many emotions, so this waiting game is something like hell to him.

He arrives at JJ’s Diner early, even, just to find a good booth, and for once in his entire life, he isn't hungry. JJ almost brings him his usual, but he turns it down, much to JJ’s surprise. His stomach is in knots, like he's going to be sick, and he's automatically in a worse mood because of it.

Time passes. 12:30 comes and goes. There's no sign of Leslie. Ron checks his watch every couple minutes, as if he's forgotten how fast time moves, and at one point he even pulls out his phone on his belt to see if Leslie has called him, to warn him she’ll be late, or if plans have changed, but there's nothing.

Waiters pass, offer him coffee, at least, but Ron waves them away. He doesn't want to feel more sick than he already does and he doesn't want to order anything until Leslie gets here. Which is ridiculous of him, and he knows he's being silly, because a large part of his brain already understands that she's not coming.

Leslie isn't coming to meet him for lunch— she’s stood him up, with no warning. And as much as he would like to be angry, he's actually just sad. Sad that it's come to this, that their friendship has fallen this far, sad because he didn't even realize what these people meant to him until they were gone.

_ Workplace proximity associates.  _ Fucking hell, if Ron had just given in and called them his friends, would things still be the same today?

Leslie is busy. He understands. He can't be mad, because he saw her up on the third floor, how much these people need her, all that she's doing for National Parks, how selfless she's being when she should be taking care of herself. Leslie is busy, and there's just no room left in her life for him.

And the worst part… the worst part of this was Ron’s intentions in the first place. That he had plans, full plans, to sit down with Leslie at lunch, suck up his pride, and  _ ask her for a job in the Federal government. _

It's the worst possible position he could ever find himself in, one of his top nightmares next to visiting Europe. But he did visit Europe for these damn people, and he would work in the Federal government for them too.

_ But no.  _ No more wallowing. Wallowing isn't like Ron Swanson, and it's not who he wants to become. No, he’ll just get over. He's had enough time to be sad, it doesn't matter to him anymore. He can move on and he can do bigger and better things. Everyone else is going to switch jobs and change their lives? Maybe he will too. Maybe he, too, has outgrown the Parks and Recreation department.

And besides, Ron Swanson doesn't make  _ friends  _ anyway.


	15. How Could He Do This?

Her feet are killing her, her legs don't want to stand on her own, her back is aching, and she's so big it should seem impossible. She's sweating and she's cranky and all she's done today is switch between yelling and crying.

Simply put, Leslie is  _ fucking tired.  _

And she just got back from Washington and maybe, just maybe, Ben was right and she shouldn't have gone. She could've passed the responsibility onto someone else, put April in charge or something, but Leslie just hasn't been ready for that kind of thing yet. She hasn't felt prepared to start passing her duties on instead of taking responsibility herself, because Leslie Knope is never one to turn down a job. But God, is she paying dearly for that now.

Ben has one hand on the small of her back and the other holding tightly to her arm as they walk— the only way he ever lets her walk lately. He's never  _ not  _ holding her, so protectively as if any minute now she may fall over and snap. And while once upon a time she insisted she didn't need it, now she doesn't mind the extra support. She doesn't mind feeling his hands on her every second, because it reminds her that he's here and she's not in this alone, and she really does need his help with balance sometimes. But that doesn't mean she won't fight him when it comes to work, of course, because she’ll definitely still do that.

“Honey, we should really just go home,” he tells her as they walk through City Hall, heading up to the third floor. “You're exhausted, and you need to sleep.”

Leslie huffs, stubborn as ever. “Maybe  _ you  _ need to sleep.”

“Uh, yeah, also that. But you know, I like it a lot better when I get to fall asleep next to you.”

“You will!” She tilts her head up to smile at him, because she knows full well that's all it takes to get him to give in. “Please, babe? Just a little bit of work. Just like, an hour, and then we can go home, okay?”

Ben purses his lips, tightening his hold on her. “If I say yes to this, will you promise to actually set a date for maternity leave?”

“Of course! Two months from now, when the kids have come out of me.” She knows this is wishful thinking, because the triplets are absolutely going to be premature. They've done the research, her doctor warned her— there's no way it's going to be another two months.

Clearly Ben is thinking the same thing, because he's giving her a look of plain exasperation. “I was thinking more like this week, Leslie.”

She scrunches up her nose and crosses her arms over her chest, using her baby bump like a table. “One month.”

“Next week, or no work tonight. And no calzones for dinner.”

Leslie whines, twisting her body away from Ben. “You've gotta stop using this dumb calzone craving against me. Fine! This’ll be my last…” she chokes on the words, “my last… work week…” 

Ben frowns, and tries to pull her closer again, just as they reach her office on the third floor. “Are you… going to cry?”

She rubs her eyes and stubbornly shakes her head. “Are  _ you  _ going to cry?”  _ Great comeback, Leslie, he’ll never see that one coming. _

“Uh, if you start crying, then very likely yes, I will.”

And that thought kind of does make Leslie sad, because Ben should never cry. Ben should be happy and smiling all the time, forever, until the end of time. It's just what's right. So, fine. She’ll take her leave from work next week, because he asked her and she knows he might actually cry if she doesn't. He's been wound up very tightly lately while pretending to have it together for her sake, and she doesn't want to give him anymore reason to snap.

That is, until she comes across probably the worst news in the history of the Pawnee and possibly the world.

She picks a pile of paperwork off her desk that screams  _ Parks Department,  _ and she's actually kind of excited at the opportunity to go back down to her old office, to see one of her favorite places again. And it's still an hour before most people get off work, so Ron should be there, and she can personally give the papers to him, maybe take the opportunity to catch up, ask him what's going on. It's been so long since she's seen him, she feels like, maybe they can get lunch together someday soon?

She had  _ meant  _ to have lunch with him before, of course, before that trip to Washington got in the way of her plans and she ended up throwing up on the plane and falling asleep in Ben’s arms before she could send Ron a quick text. So now would be a good time to let him know what that was about, right?

She picks up the papers and pulls Ben with her, telling one of her employees nearby, “We’re stopping by Ron Swanson’s office, we’ll be right back.”

“Ron Swanson?” the employee asks, her brows furrowing. “Uh, he doesn't work here anymore.”

That makes Leslie pause, squeezing Ben’s hand tighter. “Wait, what? What do you mean?”

The girl bites her bottom lip, looking at her desk. “Ron Swanson doesn't work here anymore. He quit just the other day. That's what I heard, at least. What everyone's been saying.”

“Well that's ridiculous!” Leslie snaps. “How… how dare anyone say that! You should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

She storms off with Ben catching up behind her, but she can't ignore the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach—  _ dread.  _ It's definitely a stupid rumor, why wouldn't it be? But just the thought… just the thought of Ron leaving, if anyone deciding to pull that kind of stupid prank on her and make her think that—

“Leslie, slow down—”

“No!” she snaps, more upset than she thought she was. Her face is burning red and god, her feet really do hurt. “No, I'm going to Ron and I'm telling him these stupid rumors people are making up about him—”

Ben winces, running up ahead as they reach the Parks Department. “Leslie, please, they're not—”

She pushes the door to Ron’s office open. And there's nothing there.

That breakfast food poster he hung up is gone. The gun on his desk, gone. No more whiskey glasses in the drawers and no more claymore landmine that Leslie gave him sitting in the corner. 

The name plate that read  _ Ron Swanson  _ is nowhere to be found.

He's gone, and there's no sign of him anymore, as if he never existed here at all. The office no longer smells like whiskey and bacon but instead like air freshener and something stale.

She really feels like she's going to collapse. “Ben—”

He's there in an instant, wrapping his arms around her as her knees give out. He hoists her up under her arms and presses his face to her hair, and it's all she can do to look around and stare until the tears come.

“Why would he do this?  _ Why would he do this?” _

“I'm so, so sorry—”

_ “Why would he quit without saying anything?  _ How could he do this?” And she's sobbing now, so hard that it hurts her, and she's shaking, and fuck pregnancy for making this so much harder on her, fuck Ron Swanson for leaving her when she just wanted to keep everyone close to her.  _ “How could he?”  _

Ben is shushing her and brushing her tears away, but more keep coming. His lips press to her forehead and while she wants it to be comforting, she's falling apart too quickly. “Babe,” Ben whispers into her hair, “I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to find out like this—”

_ Wait.  _

That thought makes her pause, makes her tears stop for just a moment to refocus her attention on…  _ the City Manager.  _ She twists her head and gets a good look at him and, yeah, now he looks kind of terrified of his pregnant wife. “You knew,” she whispers. “You knew, and you didn't tell me?”

Ben takes a deep breath. “I just found out yesterday when the papers got back to me. I didn't wanna tell you in Washington or on the plane. I wanted to get home and get some food in you and then break it to you—”

_ “You knew Ron quit and you waited to tell me?”  _ Of course he knew. He's the City Manager, of course Ben knew. And she knows deep down somewhere that his reasoning for waiting makes perfect sense, but dammit, she's pregnant and she's a crying mess and now she can't help but just feel hurt and angry.

“I'm so, so sorry, honey—”

“Don't,” Leslie hisses, pulling away from him. “Just… just take me home. I want to go home.”

They don't talk on the way there, and Leslie falls asleep in the car.  _ Good.  _ At least now she isn't making everything worse.


	16. Party Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super late update! As it turns out choosing to start several ongoing fics at a time is not the best idea and leaves certain fics feeling neglected. 

She refuses to go back to sleep.

It's not even a work day. It's Saturday at seven in the morning, and  _ still,  _ she refuses sleep. 

“Honey,” Ben sighs, sitting cross-legged in their bed. “There's nothing to do, anyway. No reason to be up.”

But Leslie just huffs, hits the blankets around her in frustration. At least she's laying down, Ben reasons, but that's just because she's so heavily pregnant that even  _ she  _ can fight how much more comfortable it is on her back to lie down. Her stomach tents the blankets and her hair is a mess, there are bags under her eyes, and she's never looked more beautiful to him. 

“You're wrong!” she exclaims, looking frustrated just at the idea of sitting in bed. “Even on a weekend, there can be so much to do. I… I need to do something. Do you think you could bring me the binder I left on the dining table last night?”

Ben purses his lips.  _ “No,  _ but I  _ can  _ bring you breakfast. I know you're still sick of waffles, so how's bacon sound?”

It's the wrong food to bring up— he knows it as soon as it leaves his mouth. The change in her face is instantaneous, from irritated to something so sad, shifting her eyes to look to the side rather than meet his eyes. “No thanks,” she says. “I'm not hungry.”

“Oh god,” he chokes, and he scoots closer to her, wrapping an arm around her chest, laying next to her, and pressing a kiss to her hair. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry about that one. I wasn't thinking about—”

Ben doesn't say his name. He hasn't even tried it, since they found out he quit the parks department. Leslie’s been in such a state of denial that she hasn't even tried to reach out to Ron, hasn't done anything at all. As if she's forcing herself not to think about it.

It reminds Ben a lot of their break up, all those years ago. And it strikes him that this is how his wife deals with losing people. She holds on so tightly that when they finally break free, she needs to run. At least for a time. At least until she can learn to process it.

“Don't worry about it,” she mumbles, her voice soft and sleepy. He sighs in relief. This is a good sign. “Didn't even hurt, I promise.”

He knows she's lying, but he doesn't push it. He just brushes the hair off her forehead and cups her cheek in his palm. “Are you hungry, though?” he asks her. “I can make you anything. Name anything in the world, I'll find a way to make it for you.”

“I'm not hungry.” Her smile is small, but at least it's real. “Just… maternity leave really sucks, Ben.”

“I know, honey, I know.” He holds her tighter, breathing in her scent, one of his hands resting on her belly, waiting for the familiar  _ kick  _ of the triplets that he's grown used to. The kick that makes him tear up every damn time, that reminds him that this is real, this is his family, this is his  _ home.  _ “But you're Leslie Knope. It's just one more task that you'll find a way to accomplish, okay?”

She sighs, but she doesn't fight him. “Okay. If you say so. Maybe… maybe I will go back to sleep then.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Just because you said so. Just for you.”

“I'll have breakfast waiting for you when you wake up.”

She's asleep as soon as Ben’s lips touch her cheek, and it doesn't surprise him in the slightest. He's grown so used to this, her odd sleeping patterns, and how pregnancy has so drastically changed them. She's dead to the world now, at least for the next two hours, lying so still that he would swear she was hurt if he didn't know any better.

He watches her, just smiling. “I love you,” he whispers to her, and then presses three kisses to her stomach over the blanket. “I love you little monsters, too.”

And he wishes he could do more. So, so much more. She's been working so hard, carrying triplets along with taking on this national parks job, and Ben feels like his responsibilities pale in comparison. He's City Manager, sure, but he's not the one carrying the babies. All he can do is take care of her while she does.

And she deserves more recognition, dammit. She deserves to be happy, to be cheered up, to not think about work or this situation with Ron. He wants to see her around people that care about her and he wants to give her the world.

The idea strikes him very suddenly, and he's very thankful now more than ever that his wife has become such a heavy sleeper.

It's still so early, but Ann answers on the second ring.

“Leslie? It's early, I'm with Oliver—”

“Um, it's Ben actually,” he interrupts her, feeling awkward. He even called with his own cell phone, prompting him to think this isn't the first time Ann has picked up the phone without looking, just knowing it's likely Leslie. It's kind of a sweet thought. “Sorry, if you're busy—”

“Ben? Oh god, is Leslie okay? Did she get hurt? How are the babies?”

And Ann isn't usually one for immediate panic, but the fact that she is for Leslie, now, makes his heart swell with gratitude, knowing his wife is so loved and so well looked after. “Nothings wrong,” he tells her. “Well. Actually, uh… I assume she's told you about Ron?”

Ann sighs on the other end of the phone. “A little bit. I know he quit without saying anything. She won't talk much about it, though, which is strange.”

“Yeah, she's kind of been avoiding the whole thing.” He glances in the direction of the bedroom, making sure the door is shut and Leslie isn't up yet. “She's been having a hard time. What with Ron, and starting maternity leave—”

“Oh god, I can only imagine what she's like with no work—”

“Yeah, exactly. So I just… I want to do something for her. And I was hoping maybe you could help me.”

Ann pauses for a second, and Ben can picture the look on her face. “How can I help? I mean, from Michigan…”

“I want to plan her a baby shower,” he says, all in one breath, gasping it. “A good one. With everyone she cares about.”

“Even Ron?”

“Especially Ron.”

“Okay. Okay, I can help you plan that. I can definitely help you plan that. And I can send something in the mail, a present—”

Ben grins wickedly, and the idea he has… it's a little crazy, but it means enough to him that he can't possibly let it go. He pictures the look on Leslie’s face, and he knows it'll all be worth it. “How about we do one better,” he proposes, already imagining how this will leave a dent in his wallet. “How do Chris and Oliver feel about a little bit of travel?”


End file.
